


Complete

by Madam_Fandom



Series: Tumblr Prompts [10]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Abandoned case, Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Costume Parties & Masquerades, Costumes, Developing Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, Everyone knows but Sherlock and John, First Kiss, First Meetings, H.I.A.T.U.Story November, Hurt John Watson, John is a Bit Not Good, Love at First Sight, M/M, Masquerade Party, Mutual Friends, Mycroft Being Mycroft, Mycroft Being a Good Brother, Mycroft IS the British Government, Mycroft's Meddling, One Night Stands, Pining John, Pining Sherlock, Sherlock Being Sherlock, Sherlock Holmes Has Feelings, Sherlock Holmes is Bad at Feelings, Sherlock Is A Bit Not Good, Sherlock On a Case, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Tumblr Prompt, mention of suicide, mention of violence, soul mates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-20
Updated: 2017-11-20
Packaged: 2019-02-04 12:32:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,275
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12771144
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Madam_Fandom/pseuds/Madam_Fandom
Summary: Alternate first meeting fic; prompt, Soulmates.Do you believe in love at first sight, or do I need to walk by you again?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you [Clair Lestrange](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Clair_Lestrange/pseuds/Clair_Lestrange) for beta reading my work.

Written for Novembers Prompt of Soulmates for [H.I.A.T.U.Story](https://hiatustory.tumblr.com) over on Tumblr.

 

 

Sherlock moved around another rack of costumes, this was frustrating. He was used to just bursting into a room and demanding answers, especially since he usually had all the answers before arriving. But this was different, he definitely didn’t have the answers, he wasn't even sure why he was following this man - he wasn’t a killer or any other sort of criminal, he was sure of it. Although Sherlock could tell even from this distance that this man was dangerous, it was the way he carried himself, kind of like a solider. Sherlock glanced quickly at the man’s hands as he caressed another costume. His hands were tanned but his wrists where they were exposed were not. Ahh! He was a soldier. Very few professions would require you to be fully covered out in the hot sun. Sherlock smiled to himself. He was feeling a little bold with his first glimpse into the man. He walked closer, only a rack separated the two of them, now that he was closer he needed to be more discreet in his perusal.

  
  


John felt his phone vibrate in his pocket, cursing softly he fished it out and when he saw who it was his frown got deeper. “Let me just say I don’t know how I let you talk me into this bloody masquerade party.”

 

Sherlock’s interest piqued even higher. He could hear the uncomfortableness in the man’s voice. So what about the function gave the man pause? And why  _ did _ he allow himself to be talked into going?

 

“Mike, Mike, listen to me, Mike. Bloody hell. You just go right on talking, ignoring me when you don't want to hear no don’t you?” There was a brief pause before he continued. “Fine! One hour, nothing more.” John hung up his phone muttering to himself, “Stupid Doctor’s Ball. First annual...why did I just give in, again?”

  
  


A woman who had been eyeing the man sidled up closer to him, and now that he was off the phone Sherlock could see she was working up the nerve to speak to him, he watched with avid interest. The man was obviously a nice guy and most likely wouldn’t want to hurt her feelings. But when she started speaking the man gave her only a furtive glance and small smile.

 

Inwardly John was a bit annoyed. Annoyed with the situation with Mike but also now he had this woman hitting on him. He wasn't interested, she was pretty enough and in his younger days he would’ve taken her up on her silent invitation. As he was looking up to excuse himself his eyes caught the gaze of a man one rack over. He was stunned into silence. The man had the most dazzling pair of ice blue eyes, and they were set in an equally impressive face. He was all sharp angles but his alabaster skin softened his look just enough so that he didn't look feminine. John unconsciously licked his lips and tore his gaze away. He smiled down at the woman and offered her a lame excuse. When he looked back to the spot where the man had stood, it was empty. John glanced around looking for the man. He was nowhere in sight, he just outright vanished.

  
  


Outside Sherlock stood against the side of the store fighting to control his breathing. The man had looked right at him. They had stared at one another and Sherlock had felt himself falling into the man’s gaze. He shook his head. Ever since he’d seen the man walking past his favourite fish and chips spot he’d felt drawn to him. He had felt compelled to follow him. He needed to see more of this man. The First Annual Doctor’s Ball. So he was a doctor? An army doctor, yes. And Mike was a friend, colleague, lover? Sherlock didn’t like the spurt of jealousy that bubbled up at the last thought. Pushing that foreign feeling aside Sherlock pulled out his phone and started looking for mention of the ball in the local news. It didn’t take long for him to find the event’s location, now he just needed a costume.

 


	2. Chapter 2

John felt like a total chav. He wasn’t blind to the stares he got so he knew he looked decent, maybe even good he just felt a bit uncomfortable with the whole idea. His costume was a bit self-indulgent, he ended up not buying anything in the costume shop, he'd settled on his dress uniform from his days in the army. And he borrowed a mask from his sister, why she had one was beyond him but he was grateful all the same.

 

He’d been out of the medical scene for a while, seeing how he had only just returned from Afghanistan on an honourable but medical discharge.

 

Mike was off rubbing elbows with others that he knew in the field, while John stood up against the far wall, as far away from the bar as possible. He was tempted to make a run for it and leave but he had promised Mike he’d stay at least an hour.

“I’m sure if you snuck off he wouldn’t even notice you didn’t stay your allotted hour. Penance as it is.”

 

John hid his shock. It was like the person had read his mind, and the voice was like honeyed dark chocolate, rich and delicious. It sent an involuntary shiver through John. He turned to address the speaker and the words got trapped in his throat. It was the man from the costume shop. He would recognize those eyes anywhere. He was dressed in a simple but elegant black tux with tails. His mask was simple as well, it was a replica of the mask from the Phantom of the Opera. “Hello. Do I know you?”

“Nope, we have never had the pleasure of meeting.”

“So what brings you to this...party? I mean, you fit in, but something tells me this isn’t your usual sort of crowd.”

“Very astute of you.”

“So what brings you here?”

“You.”

John knew his face showed the shock he felt. “What- I don’t understand.”

“Imagine that.” Sherlock muttered under his breath, and then louder he said, “I won’t insult your efforts of sobriety by asking if you would like a drink, but I _will_ ask if you care to accompany me on the balcony?”

“How on earth did you know I was- you know what, nevermind. Sure, I’ll bite.”

Sherlock swallowed down his delight and smothered his smile as he crossed his hands behind his back leading the way to the balcony a mere fifteen feet from their current location.

  
  


Outside John silently took in the view from the balcony, it was a breathtaking view of London, you could see the Thames off in the distance. He looked over to his companion, the man was staring at him candidly instead of the view before them, it unnerved John but also sent a little thrill through him at the prospect of being interesting to this clearly enigmatic man. Putting his hand out John formally introduced himself, “I’m John Watson.”

Sherlock slowly took John’s hand, his thumb rubbing over the other man’s knuckles, he held his hand more so than shook it in greeting. “Hello, John Watson, army doctor extraordinaire.”

John frowned, “Extraordinaire? Hardly. And you are?”

Sherlock realizing he was still holding John’s hand, reluctantly let go. “Sherlock Holmes, Consulting Detective at your service.”

“Ahh. That explains it.”

It was now Sherlock’s turn to frown, “Explains what?”

“Why you keep staring at me and how you knew I was struggling with drinking.”

“No, it doesn’t, maybe how I knew about the drinking, but not why I can’t seem to tear my eyes away from you. If I may be so blunt, I find you to be quite attractive, very appealing to me where few are.”

“Well, thank you, I suppose.”

Sherlock finally turned away from John, looking back in on the party instead of the fabulous view of the city. “A glorified Halloween party, how droll. Aren’t we all too old to be playing dress up?”

“Yet here we are.”

 

Sherlock turned and regarded John again. The other man was again staring out over the city. “What is your relationship to Mike?”

“Mike?” John heard Sherlock perfectly clear, he just couldn’t understand why Sherlock was asking about him.

“Yes, the gentleman you allowed to talk you into attending. If he is your boyfriend, he is a rubbish boyfriend. Leaving you-” Sherlock was cut off by John’s sudden fit of laughter. He was clutching his middle as he doubled over with mirth.

Finally catching his breath after a few moments John removed his mask and wiped a stray tear from his eye and looked at Sherlock, “Ooh, he isn’t my boyfriend, we’re just old mates from our time at Barts.”

“Oh, good.”

John frowned at Sherlock. “Goo- nevermind, so what does a consulting detective do?”

“I offer insight into mysteries and curiosities. Mainly for Scotland Yard.”

 

John leaned against the railing staring up at Sherlock, he still had on his mask. As much as Sherlock’s mask suited him and emphasised his dark curly hair, his bright blue eyes and- and those lips, John wanted to see his face unobstructed. “Why do I have a feeling you are being modest?”

“Modest?” Sherlock scoffed. “Modesty isn’t something most people would associate with me.”

“Yet you are.”

 

Sherlock smiled a full, genuine smile. “I am. I am the only consulting detective in the world, I usually solve the cases brought to me. And usually, before they finish telling me about the case.” Sherlock ducked his head not wanting to see condemnation for his cocky seeming comment. It was just fact, but most people took it as him being a braggart.

 

Stepping forward, John reached up a hand, fingertips caressing the edge of the mask, when Sherlock met his eyes he asked, “May I?”

Sherlock gave an almost imperceptible nod.

John slowly removed the mask, running his hand through Sherlock's curls. Stepping closer still, he cupped Sherlock's face. Inwardly he sighed, he’d know his hand would fit perfectly against the sharp plains of Sherlock’s face.

Sherlock closed his eyes, his heart beating fast. John's hand was cool against his fevered skin. He could feel the other man’s breath tickling the fine hairs on his face.

 

John hadn’t meant to touch Sherlock like this, he’d only meant to remove the mask. And even now his body seemed to move on its own. John’s hand funnelled back up into his hair, cupping the back of his head he pulled Sherlock down to meet his waiting lips.

It was so soft Sherlock was afraid he was imagining this kiss. And then John pressed more firmly, their lips slotting together perfectly.

John couldn’t hold back a moan as he traced Sherlock's lips with his tongue and again when the detective opened his mouth to him. He felt like he had just won some sort of battle and this was his reward, the elation was a live thing burrowing into his mind, heart and soul.

Sherlock let out a breathy moan of his own, grasping John by his shoulders he pulled them together, he needed to feel the shorter man against him, all of him. It was a burning need and very irrational. Pulling away Sherlock asked the man something he never thought to ask anyone, “Do you want to come home with me?”

“Oh God yes.”

Sherlock crushed his mouth to John’s once more but pulling away before the other man could engage in the kiss himself. “Now?”

“Now,” John confirmed.

 

John grabbed Sherlock’s hand intending to march them out of there, then he thought about it.  “Maybe you should lead the way.” Sherlock smiled at him and John felt like the whole world had lit up and his heart did a small flip.

 

He followed behind Sherlock helpless to do anything else. In the back of his mind, it occurred to him that he should find Mike and let him know he was cutting out early, but Sherlock kept walking and he kept following.

  
  


In the elevator, the two men came back together as if they were starving for one another. Every time Sherlock thought this was wrong, that he barely knew John the thought was brushed away by a brush of John’s lips or a sweep of his tongue. Ever cognizant of his surroundings Sherlock broke away from John just as the elevator door swished open. Giggling, two women stood there holding hands while they waited for the elevator. Impatient, Sherlock pushed past them and on a hunch turned around just as the elevator doors were closing again, the women were making out. Something must be in the air he thought absently.

 

Once outside Sherlock looked over to John, the look on his face scorched his insides. Quickly stepping off the curb he hailed a cab. John was stepping closer to him when a cabbie pulled up next to them. Looking down at him he said, “Luckily my flat is close.”

 

John smiled up at Sherlock. He had been quiet since stepping from the elevator, and John had wondered if Sherlock had changed his mind. John was out of his depths, he’d never rushed off with a man he barely knew, and one who was so clearly out of his league. Despite warning bells of logic going off in his head, John couldn’t shake off how right this felt.

 

In the cab, John continued to ignore his good sense and pulled Sherlock snug up against him.

 

Torture, sweet blessed torture. That was what John Watson was. Sherlock struggled with telling the cabbie his address, John was sucking on his neck, with one hand resting innocently on Sherlock’s thigh. As soon as Sherlock gave his address in its entirety John's focus changed from his neck to his mouth. Sherlock was thoroughly enjoying the attention and John now had his hand on proof of that, Sherlock almost yelped in surprise and pleasure. Trying to be the voice of reason Sherlock pulled back staring at John. He was normally an insightful person, yet he could not read what he saw in John’s eyes, it was more than just your garden variety lust, and if he was being honest with himself, it scared him just a little.

 

Sherlock’s deep gaze made John feel like he was being filleted open down to the soul, it was like Sherlock could see the things John tried to hide from the world, so he kissed Sherlock again to take the focus off of him.

 

John placed his hand on the side of Sherlock’s face, a gentle caress followed by an even more gentle kiss. It stole Sherlock's breath, not because of its fiery heat, but because of the silent intensity of it. This kiss was different than the ones before, this was just a mere touching of lips, with slight flicks of his tongue. This felt like love, at least what Sherlock imagined love would feel like. John broke away with effort, pulling Sherlock against him and tucking him under his arm.

  
  


Roughly ten minutes later Sherlock was struggling yet again with another simple task, he was trying to get inside his flat but he found it hard to concentrate with John practically glue to his backside kissing and biting his neck.

 

John slid a hand slowly down Sherlock’s forearm down to his hand, taking the key gently from Sherlock he stopped his assault of kisses to open the door for them.

 

To John’s amusement, Sherlock stepped out of reach as soon as they were through the door. John stayed where he was, trying to read Sherlock’s body language, had he changed his mind? He watched as Sherlock fidgeted around the room lightly touching things here or there. He was clearly nervous and his nervousness put John more at ease. “Sherlock,” Sherlock didn’t answer, he was mumbling under his breath about the mess in the sitting room and how his landlady Mrs Hudson wasn’t doing her job properly. John tried again. “Sherlock?” When Sherlock again failed to acknowledge John he marched into the room, grabbed Sherlock’s face between his two meaty hands and said, “Sherlock, we don’t have to do this love, it’s okay.”

 

Something inside Sherlock snapped, he couldn’t let John leave his flat. Not before he had the chance to touch, taste and brand his name into every inch of John’s body.

 

Sherlock covered John’s hands with his own, leaning forward he kissed John, first it was gentle but quickly turned into something raw and primal as their earlier desperation came back.

 

Sherlock began tearing at John’s dress uniform.

 

“Easy Sherlock, let me.”

 

Sherlock was a little embarrassed at having to be told to go easy. He was used to denying his body the simple pleasures it wanted, including sex and masturbation. Oh, he gave in from time to time, but he had never in his life felt the absolute need, the desire to be with another human being. It was almost like when he went too long without eating, the way his body craved food and the need was too strong to deny. What about John Watson sent Sherlock’s mind and body into a tailspin? Ever impatient Sherlock knocked John’s hands aside and at a moderate but careful pace unbuttoned John's dress shirt. With a sigh he slid both jacket and shirt from the other man's body, tossing them on a chair in the corner. When Sherlock turned back to face John, he was already reaching for him, hands on his tux jacket.

 

“Your turn gorgeous.”

 

John’s words momentarily stunned Sherlock. He considered himself a man of average looks, and he knew how to flatter and turn on the charm while working a case but he had never thought of himself as gorgeous. With renewed vigour, Sherlock went for John’s belt buckle while John worked at all the tiny buttons on his shirt. Why had he gone with a shirt with so many damn buttons?

 

Sherlock having successfully unbuckled John’s belt and trousers pushed them along with his pants down, taking joy in the sound of them hitting the floor. He kissed John again, running his hands over John’s arse, he had a great arse, firm and muscular, but not too firm, great for grabbing.

  
  


John finally got all the miniscule buttons undone, with great care for the elegant fabric now in his hands he tossed the shirt and tux jacket on the same chair Sherlock had tossed his clothes. “Finally” he breathed with a smile against Sherlock’s lips as he stepped out of his trousers and pants. Dropping to his knees he placed a kiss on Sherlock’s stomach, darting his tongue inside his naval quickly. Sherlock hissed and John smiled as he placed another kiss on Sherlock’s hip.

 

Sherlock couldn’t stop the jerk of his hips as John kissed along his waist as he undid his trousers. Luckily for him, he wasn’t wearing any pants, one less layer to get through. He carded his fingers through John’s hair. The man was a pro, kissing each new revealed patch of skin, nipping or tonguing the area as he went, John’s lips were currently nuzzling the top of his dark curls.

 

“No pants?” John’s voice sounded muffled in his exploration of the contents of Sherlock's trousers.

 

Sherlock gasped at the feel of John’s hot tongue licking along the base of his cock. He was still fully clothed from the waist down but John had his zipper down and was making the best of what had been revealed. Sherlock impatient as ever pushed his pants down in a hurry. “No, hardly ever.” He breathed out in a rush.

 

“Mmm, good for me.”

 

John looked up the length of Sherlock's lithe body, his skin was flushed and his chest was heaving. He gave a slow lick to the head of Sherlock’s cock, smiling when the other man trembled and jerked in his hand. They were progressing rather quickly and he didn’t want it all to go down on the floor in the middle of Sherlock's sitting room. Standing up John asked Sherlock where the bedroom was. Sherlock pointed to the door at the end of the hall. John led him by the hand to the room and over to the bed.

 

Sherlock allowed himself to be led to the bed fighting to get his raging hormones under control. He didn’t want this to be over before it began. Sherlock’s mind flew to their next problem, who would bottom? John was being rather aggressive, Sherlock could see the man wanting to top, which he didn’t exactly have a problem with, but he wanted to be balls deep inside the man currently kissing his way down his body. Perhaps he would just take John’s lead, just because he was taking lead right now, that didn’t mean he wanted to top. And if he did maybe next time around he would allow Sherlock to do so. Just thinking about being inside John caused more blood to rush to his groin and had him moaning in pain.

 

John barely knew the man beneath him but he could see his mind was somewhere else, maybe he was having second thoughts? Christ, he hoped not. But now he had to ask again. “Sherlock?” 

John’s voice was low and gravely, Sherlock let out a small moan, John's voice was like a physical caress.

“Sherlock, have you changed your mind?”

“God no. Don’t stop, please.”

 

John, taking it as the invite that it was, continued his southward exploration of Sherlock’s body. He licked, kissed, and sucked his way all over the detective's body. From his jaw to his ankles leaving his cock for last. He knew Sherlock was on fire and itching to be touched there but he wanted to draw it out in case he never got the chance to do this again. Surprisingly John felt the familiar burn behind his eyes that meant tears were threatening. Why on earth would he cry over not bedding Sherlock again? Of course, he was a beautiful, no, a gorgeous man, but that couldn’t be it.

 

Giving in John finally took Sherlock in hand, licking the head, he delighted in the shiver that ran through Sherlock at the contact.

 

With every inch of him that slid into John’s hot mouth the more Sherlock felt he was losing his mind. But not in the insane sense, but in the serene drug-induced way. He couldn’t afford to become addicted to this man.

 

John laved his way around Sherlock’s cock, up, down, around the glands and balls. Sherlock was beautifully loud in his pleasure and John wanted to encourage such wantonness, well, as long as it was with him. Spreading Sherlock's legs John reached up and tapped Sherlock on the stomach, after a few heartbeats a small bottle was passed into his hand. John placed kisses on Sherlock’s thigh as he poured a bit of lube over his puckered entrance.

 

Sherlock sighed, this was heaven. John was slowly easing a finger into him, he was a careful lover and Sherlock appreciated that; he hadn’t been with anyone for a while now and he would be tight. John flicked his finger sending a wave of pleasure through him and before he could stop it a loud moan escaped him.

 

“Mmm, that’s it, Sherlock, let me hear you, you’re so damn hot.”

That comment wrung another smaller moan from Sherlock’s lips.

 

John smiled before lowering his mouth to Sherlock again. He let his finger and mouth work in tandem, driving Sherlock to the edge. In a matter of minutes, Sherlock was pulling at his hair and warning John that he was going to come. John took that as his cue, he slipped another thick finger inside of Sherlock, rubbing, twirling, and scissoring them while he concentrated on giving the head of his cock the most attention.

“J-John, I’m serious...oooh, I’m gonna com- mmm. Please, John, I can’t hold back much lo- aahh.”

John stopped his sweet torture long enough to tell Sherlock, “Don’t hold back. Give it all to me, I want to hear you scream my name, and your nails digging into my skin. Just. Let. Go.”

 

Sherlock’s eyes crossed as John doubled up his efforts to make him come. His mind was definitely short-circuiting, his hips jerked up involuntarily, as John’s talented fingers were rubbing out a staccato across his prostate; and then he was coming. His vision blacked out, he saw a billion tiny stars fly across his eyes, he screamed John's name and repeated it in a gentle whisper as he emptied himself into John's waiting mouth.

John gently removed his fingers and mouth. He couldn’t help but smile at the picture Sherlock presented. His body glistened with sweat, his skin was flushed a pretty pink, hands splayed beside him and his breathing was shallow and fast. Climbing up the detective's body he placed a kiss at the corner of his open mouth.

 

Sherlock wasn’t sure if his eyes were open or closed he felt like he couldn’t move. He was proved wrong when he felt John kiss him, he turned his head, offering his mouth. He tasted himself there, a slightly salty taste, interesting and not wholly unpleasant. He had to break away to catch his breath, as he did he turned on his side, his back to John's front.

 

John ran a hand down the centre of Sherlock's back, producing a shiver. John pulled Sherlock into his arms, their bodies flush, his erection pressing into the other's arse. John placed soft kisses on Sherlock's neck, along with gentle nibbles along his shoulders. Sherlock pressed back into him, grinding his hips slowly. Groaning John spread Sherlock guiding the head of his cock inside. John laid there with only his head immersed in Sherlock, gritting his teeth against the tightness, the absolute rightness of their actions.

 

Sherlock pushed back, John’s cock sliding in deeper, he moaned softly. John brought his arms up, tightly cradling him, mouth pressed in against the base of his ear. Sherlock was physically content to just lay like this for the foreseeable future, his body sated and John secreted away inside him, connecting them. But- but he also wanted to hear John say his name in pleasure, to hear him lost in the feeling. He pushed his hips back hard, delighting in the quiet hiss that John expelled.

 

John placed a hand on Sherlock's hips stilling them. He set his own tempo, a slow, steady thrusting. He wanted to draw it out as long as possible; he wanted Sherlock to forever remember this night with him. John wanted to ruin sex for Sherlock, whoever he laid with after him wouldn’t matter because every time he closed his eyes he would see him. John knew this wasn’t a fair thing to want to do, but he knew he would think of this night for a long time to come.

 

John bit Sherlock on the neck, drawing Sherlock’s pulse into his mouth, tonguing the abused skin before moving to another patch of unblemished skin. He moved in and out of Sherlock, rotating his hips as he gripped Sherlock’s.

 

Sherlock loved the quiet moans and groans that John was giving. It was hot and turning him on further. “Say my name, John.”

“Sherlock,” John whispered.

“Again.”

“Mmm, Sherlock...you feel so good.”John increased his speed, unable to keep his slow pace. Sherlock’s body gripped him tight and was driving him closer to the edge. He wasn’t ready for it to end yet. Reaching down he took Sherlock in hand, pumping him in time with his thrusts. “Come with me Sherlock, mmm Chri- come with me.”

 

Sherlock cried out as John again increased his tempo, driving into him fast, the head of his cock stroking his prostate with every thrust. “Aaaah John, yes!”

 

John lifted Sherlock’s leg, sliding in deeper. “Fuuuck! Sher-” John stopped thrusting, he had to, it was too much. He wanted to catch Sherlock up and delay his own orgasm just a while longer.

 

“Jooohn, please don’t stop.” Sherlock turned his head to look at John, who immediately captured his mouth, plunging his tongue into Sherlock’s mouth as expertly as he had into his body. “Mmm, please.” Sherlock managed to get out.

 

John couldn’t resist Sherlock's breathless plea, he began moving again. “Yes, yes, forever yes. Whatever you want.”

 

Sherlock liked the way that sounded.

 

John zeroed in on the pulse in Sherlock’s neck again as he added a twist to the hand stroking him. He was so bloody close. “Come. With. Me.” John’s thrust became more clipped, going deeper, harder, more erratic.

 

“Now John, now!” Sherlock started to come again, crying out, his body tightening around John spurring his orgasm.

“Ahh! Sherlock, Christ, I’m coming...I’m coming!”

 

Sherlock felt the spurt of hot semen fill him as John came hard, his head falling forward to rest on his shoulder.

  
  


John closed his eyes, fighting to catch his breath. He let Sherlock’s leg go and wrapped his arms around the taller man once more. He was deeply sated and he would like nothing more than to shower with the man in front of him and climb back in bed and sleep. But he held no illusions about tonight, Sherlock didn’t strike him as the relationship type, he seemed more like the love ‘em and leave ‘em type. A ton of one night stands and no callbacks. And on that thought another occured to him. “Bloody hell.”

“What?” Sherlock asked in the sexiest sleepy voice John had ever heard.

“Sorry, I guess I was so anxious, we didn’t use protection. I assure you I have been tested and I’m clean.”

“I came in your mouth, I should be apologizing.”

John was a little taken aback by Sherlock’s bluntness but said nothing.

“Besides, I know you’re clean and I am too. I can show you my latest test results if you like.”

“Whoa, wait a minute, how do you know I’m clean?”

“You’re a bloody doctor, you take care of yourself, it’s a given.”

“All right, fair enough.” John placed a kiss on the base of Sherlock’s neck and rubbed his face through his sweat-soaked curls.

 

Sherlock stiffened, what was John doing? John needed to go before Sherlock gave in to urge to have John stay the night; because that path would lead to addiction and dependency, he couldn't have that.

Sherlock was fully aware of John still being inside of him, but he still moved to get up.

“Oh, sorry.” John pulled out of Sherlock carefully, a bit embarrassed that he had to be prodded into action. “Um, your bathroom?”

“Right outside the room.”

“Right. Be right back.”

  
John got up finding the bathroom with no problem. He got a clean flannel from the closet and cleaned himself up quickly. Grabbing another he wet it with hot water and carried it back into the room to take care of Sherlock. When he walked in he couldn't help but smile, Sherlock was sprawled out on his stomach, limbs going every which way. His eyes were closed but John thought there was no way Sherlock could have fallen asleep that quickly. “Sherlock? I’m gonna clean up you up a bit, okay?” No answer. John didn’t want to disturb him if he was really sleeping but he also didn’t want him to wake up gross and sticky. Making up his mind John climbed back on the bed, gently running the cloth between Sherlock’s cheeks. Sherlock moaned his name in his sleep. John smiled again and tried to roll Sherlock over to get his front but the detective was held fast to the mattress corner murmuring no. So John had to let it go.

 

Back in the front room he dressed quickly and searched for Sherlock’s phone. He wanted to leave a note and his number, but he thought better of it and decided to just leave his number. Unfortunately, when he found Sherlock’s phone it was locked. John looked discreetly around the sitting room and didn’t find one bloody pencil or pen. “Ah ha!” John quietly went back to the bathroom turning the shower on to hot. He waited for the mirror to fog up and then wrote his name and number with his finger on the slick surface. Sherlock was bound to see it when he awoke and took a shower.

 

Happy with himself, John made sure he had his phone, wallet, and keys and then let himself out of the flat, turning the bottom lock as he went.


	3. Chapter 3

“Come on John, you’ll feel better if you just talk about what’s bothering you. And don’t you bother telling me nothing again. Everyone sees it. You haven’t been the same since the night of the party. Did something happen? Do I need to speak to my police buddy and have someone brought in?”

“Okay! Okay, Mike, you win, just stop with the bloody pattering.” John took another deep drink of his ale. “This place isn't very good, is it?”

“John stop stalling.”

“All right already. I met someone that night, the night of the party.” John fell silent, remembering the way Sherlock had looked when they first locked eyes. Sherlock had been standing there, hands behind his back looking pleased with himself. He had quite literally stolen John’s breath away.

“John, woohoo, did you hear me?”

“What? Sorry?”

“I asked is that why you disappeared? You were gone before the first dance.”

“Yeah. I know I promised you I’d stay an hour but he was worth it. I couldn’t keep my eyes off him.”

“Him? I didn’t know you fancied men.”

“Men, women, it’s all the same thing really. But I couldn’t have turned him down had there been a gun to my head. Anyways, we went back to his flat, fooled around-”

“Was he a good shag?”

“Phenomenal. But he fell asleep afterwards and-”

“So _you’re_ an even better shag.”

“Mike! That’s beside the point.”

“Sorry, just trying to get all the details.”

“So anyway, I couldn’t find a bloody pen or pencil to leave my number. So-”

“His mobile phone. You could’ve just put it in there.”

John sighed heavily, scratching at his shoulder before responding, "I tried that first, now will you please stop interrupting me?”

“Sorry, go on.”

“So I fogged up the bathroom and wrote my number on the mirror. Considering he’s a detective I figured that was pretty clever of me.”

Mike looked like he was about to burst with the need to say something. “What is it?”

“First, you shagged at his place, so don’t you know where he lives? And second, a detective? Like a cop?”

“Yes to the first question, no to the second.”

Mike started to smile smugly.

“What now?”

“You’re besotted with Sherlock Holmes.”

“What? How in the world could you know his name?”

“He’s a detective, a consulting detective. The-”

“Only one in the world. Yes, he gave me that spiel. Do you know him? Does he have someone, is that why he didn’t call?”

Mike chuckled, “No, he barely has any friends. I think you would be better off approaching him, he’s not very good with people.”

“How can you be a detective and not be very good with people? Besides he was quite charming the night I met him.”

“Did you see him speak with anyone else at the party?”

“No, I can’t say that I did.”

“Pity, had he, you would’ve seen what I mean. Don’t get me wrong John, Sherlock can be quite charming when he's on a case but when he isn’t he can be- himself.”

“I don’t know what that means! You know him well then?”

“As well as he will allow anyone. He comes into Bart’s all the time. He works pretty closely with Molly.”

John sighed in exasperation. “I’m screwed.”

Mike stood up patting John on the shoulder. “You’re rather resourceful, I’m sure you’ll figure this out.” Mike started to walk out of the pub when John called out to him.

“Mike!”

Mike turned back looking at John, “Yeah?”

“Your police buddy, what’s his name?”

Mike smiled, “Greg Lestrade. Down at Scotland Yard.”

“Thanks.” John finished his drink alone. He only ever had one when he went out with Mike so he always took his time with it.

 

John paid for his drink and was standing up to leave when an older gentleman sat down. “Good evening,” John said politely.

“Good evening John. Care to have a seat?”

John looked at the man suspiciously. He was sure he didn’t know the man. He was too upper crust to run in his circles, not that he had much of anything resembling circles. He sat down again, his interest piqued. “Can I help you?”

The man turned and looked John fully in the eyes. Oh, he was definitely a chav, he was wearing a three-piece suit in the middle of a pub. He even carried an umbrella, a fancy jacket hanging over his arm.

“Yes, I believe you can. What is your business with Sherlock Holmes?”

Realization hit John in the stomach and he deflated in his seat, slumping in his seat, this man must be Sherlock partner or worse case scenario husband. John was sure he could take him in a fight but he didn’t want any problems. And this man looked the sort to have other people do his dirty work. He hoped it didn’t come to that. “I uh, have none I suppose. What’s it to you?”

“Do you have any intentions of continuing your association with Mr Sherlock Holmes?”

John frowned, “Excuse me, who are you?”

“The closest thing he has to a loved one. Answer my question Dr Watson, do you intend to continue your relationship with Sherlock?”

“There isn’t any relationship, I assure you.” The man was smirking at John, that smirk grated on his nerves, made him want to plant a punch right in the middle of his round smug face.

“But you want there to be, correct?”

John stood up having had enough, “I don’t see how that’s any of your business.”

“It could be.”

“No, I really doubt it. Good evening.” John walked off missing the pretty brunette that sat down in his vacated chair, and the statement that followed. “That man could be the making of my brother or his undoing.”

“Should I have him followed sir?”

“Not necessary, he’ll end up back at 221b eventually. He won’t be able to help it, he and my brother are soul mates.”

 

***

 

Sherlock laid on his back on the couch. He was in his flat and every now and again he would throw a small object into the air and catch it again. He was miserable. As impossible as it seemed he missed John. And his arm had been itching like crazy since the morning after the party. Every time he allowed himself to think about that night he berated himself all over again. Why had he fallen asleep? Why hadn’t he just given in and told the cute doctor he wanted him to stay the night? Why hadn’t he given John his number? He gave it to everyone else; he was a bloody fool. John had even attempted to clean him up, who does that?

 

Sherlock hadn’t been able to concentrate on a single case since meeting John, not even the one he had already been working on the day he had gone into the costume shop. He imagined Lestrade would be calling him soon wanting an update on the case, he hardly ever took this long on a case.

 

His phone rang, Sherlock sat up. Oh, maybe he should add psychic to his repertoire. The object he had been throwing in the air landed on the couch where Sherlock’s head had just been.

Pulling his mobile out of his pocket he saw that it was indeed Detective Inspector Lestrade.

“Sherlock Holmes speaking. Yes, I have caller I.D., yes I knew it was you. Seriously Lestrade! That is neither here nor there. If you’re calling about- oh, you’re not? Then why on earth are you calling me for? I’m much too busy on your case for trivial matters.” Sherlock was silent listening intently for several moments. “I see. I’ll be there shortly.”

 

Sherlock’s mind was racing. He barely registered getting dressed. When he'd begun getting dressed this morning he'd abandoned the task part way through. He was sliding into his coat when Mrs Hudson walked in. “Woohoo’ Sher- aah! Is that an eye on the couch Sherlock?”

Sherlock looked where she pointed. “Yes. But it's dehydrated so no nasty stains on the couch. I’m off Mrs Hudson was there something you needed?”

“Just checking on you dear. You’ve been so quiet the last couple of weeks."

“I’m on a case.”

“Sherrrrlock, that’s not it at all. You’ve been neglecting your cases too. It’s that young man you brought home isn’t it?”

Sherlock's mind raced, how on earth had she known about that?

“Oh don’t look so shocked Sherlock, that young man sounded quite talented.”

Sherlock knew he had to be red in the face, Mrs Hudson had heard them; he thought she was supposed to be out of town, visiting her sister.

“Mr Hudson was just as talented. He could really make me-”

“Mrs Hudson, excuse me, I really must get going.” Sherlock walked out, but a moment later stuck his head back in the door, “Uh, I’m really sorry about the noise Mrs Hudson, I, uh-”

“Nonsense, Sherlock, it’s good to hear you praying.”

 

Sherlock bolted out the flat and down the stairs. Well, that was wholly embarrassing. Hailing a cab his mind switched back to the reason Lestrade had called him. There had been a body found, but it was where the body was found that was most intriguing to him. The body had been found in the same location that the masquerade party had taken place. Lestrade had stated that a mutual friend had told him that he’d been there that night and he wanted to see if Sherlock recognised the person, seeing how there had been no identification on the body whatsoever. Thinking back to that night, once again, he had to be honest with himself, he hadn’t paid much attention to anyone else. He might not be of any help. And why was the body just being found weeks later? It was more likely that the person had been abducted that night, killed and dumped back in the same location. And of course, he couldn't help but think of John and the way he had looked. Sherlock had spotted him as soon as he had stepped into the party. It was like John was magnetic north and he was a compass, his body just immediately tuned into him.

 

It was a slightly longer trip than the night he and John had made it going in the opposite direction, but people were out and about working and heading home and all the other stuff that people did in the early evening. By the time he reached the place he had already rehashed that entire night and he was thankful he always wore a long coat. Stepping out of the cab he took in a deep breath trying to steady himself. Once inside he decided to forego the elevator and headed up the long winding stairs instead to the first floor where the party had taken place; he was sure that would be where he would find Lestrade.

 

Sherlock was hit with a sudden case of deja vu. As he stood on the landing of the stairs he could see John as he had been that night, dressed gallantly in his dress uniform facing the crowd but apart from it. But then John turned and looked at him, giving a hesitant smile. That hadn’t happened the night of the party.

“Hello, Sherlock.”

Sherlock must be dreaming. John had not spoken to him first. Unless- was John really here? “John?”

“Yes, were you expecting someone else? I could go…” John panicked, he had taken a gamble and he hoped Sherlock wasn’t as callous as everyone seemed to think he was. Please don’t let him send me away, John prayed urgently in his head.

“No!” Sherlock winced. He hadn’t meant to yell, way to look smooth he thought. He started across the floor stopping a few feet from John, shoving his hands into his coat pockets- they shook with the need to touch his doctor. Or soldier rather, he happened to be currently dressed for the part. “John, why are you here? Where is Lestrade?”

John’s heart plummeted. Sherlock didn’t want him here, he was more concerned with the fake case John had thrown together to get him here. “It turns out we have a mutual friend, and that friend and you also have a mutual friend.”

“Go on.”

“Mike Stamford. He invited me to the party that night. And Mike also knows D.I. Greg Lestrade who apparently supplies you with your caseload. So I asked this detective that I didn’t know, to call you making up a case just to get you down here.”

“Why? Why would you go through all this trouble?” Sherlock’s mind screamed at him that he would’ve done the same. But he hadn’t.

Instead of answering the question John kept talking. “Turns out I met someone else who knows you and apparently loves you.”

Sherlock was now truly and completely confused. Loved him?

“I would say either a current or past lover by the questions he was asking me.”

“That’s preposterous! Lover? I can barely tolerate people long enough to solve a case let alone have a lover. Who was this man, what did he look like?”

“I don’t know, tall, thin, well dressed-”

“Did he carry an umbrella?”

“Yes…”

Sherlock sighed with relief, gave a dismissive wave of his hand. “Oh, him.”

“Oh him? He knew my name, was questioning me about us!”

“Just my brother.”

“Oh. But how did he know- did you tell him?”

“No! I try to talk to him as little as possible. He works for the government, it’s fine.”

 

The two of them stood there awkwardly not saying anything. Sherlock had his hands in his pockets still and John kept his hands clasped behind his back.

“So…”

“Why didn’t you call me Sherlock?”

“Call you? How on earth was I supposed to call you?”

“I left my number written on the bathroom mirror. And while we are at it, why do you not have one writing instrument in your flat? Seriously not one!”

“It was for an experiment. And I how was supposed to see your number written on the mirror? I was just supposed to walk in there and think, hey, let me turn on the hot water and see if the hot doctor left me his number?”

“Hot doctor huh?”

“Oh you know you’re hot, don’t act coy.”

“You don’t do relationships then?”

“Not under normal circumstances.”

“Oh. In all fairness, it would have been nice to know that in advance.”

“In all fairness, you didn’t ask, I assumed it was understood and mutual.”

“It was, except…”

“This turned out not to be normal circumstances.”

 

The men walked towards one another, slowly,  like they were afraid the other might bolt.

“Why didn’t you come by John? You know where I live.”

“I was afraid. You hadn't called, and I just assumed the worst, that you weren't that keen.”

“Not that keen? I haven’t been able to get you off my bloody mind! And this,” Sherlock jabbed himself in the side of his head several times, “this is my hard drive, it makes sense to put only important things in here, and you have been occupying so much of my hard drive I haven’t been able to solve a simple locked door, murder-suicide case for Lestrade!” Sherlock gestured at a door to his left that was cracked just a hair.

“Bloody hell! How did you even know I was here?” Lestrade said as he stepped out.

“Of course you’re here, I wouldn’t be in the least bit surprised if Mike and Mycroft popped out of the closet with you.”

“Hi.”

“Mike!?” John shouted, shocked to see his friend here as well. “What are you doing here?”

“I just had to see it for myself, Sherlock in love. Unbelievable.”

“Tell me about it. He’s only known this bloke one night and already he can remember his name and treats him better than the lot of us.” Lestrade grumbled.

 

“That’s it! Come along John, let’s go somewhere we aren’t being assessed, watched and interrupted. Good night Mike, I do so know your name Graham and Mycroft, I’m telling mummy.” Sherlock grabbed John’s wrist, as he pulled him towards the stairs he heard Lestrade say, “Greg, my name is Greg.”


	4. Chapter 4

Outside Sherlock hailed a cab, holding the door open while John climbed inside.

 

John wiped a hand over his face roughly, what was he doing? Sherlock didn’t do relationships. His shoulder was itching again, it had been doing that a lot lately. Looking over he noticed Sherlock was scratching at his arm, the inside near the elbow.

 

“Where are we headed mate?” The cabbie asked. Sherlock looked at John who was already looking at him, “Angelo’s, do you know the place?”

“Yeah I know it, we’ll be there in a jiffy.”

Sherlock's hand shook, he wanted to touch John, take his hand, his leg, his lips, anywhere, he just needed to touch him.

 

“Back there, you said Mycroft I’m telling mummy, was he also there?”

“In a sense, there was a camera in the upper right corner which activated the moment I walked in, I’m sure it was just my brother sticking his nose where it isn’t wanted.”

Sherlock was scratching again, John leaned over, his shoulder brushing Sherlock’s arm, “Listen, if you have a habit, I know a very good place, excellent, very discreet-”

“You! You’re my habit!” Sherlock exploded. “I can't seem to get the feel of you out of my system, the way you sound, taste. It’s like a physical ache that I can’t shake. I close my eyes and all I can see is you. All I think about is when will be the next time I get to be near you, to touch you. You see this?” Sherlock held up his shaking hand, “This is because I want to touch you so bad I can’t contain the need.”

“Then touch me.”

Sherlock took John’s hand and they both sighed with the contact.

 

“You know what that is mate? That need you’re feeling?” The cabbie asked as he looked at them through the rearview mirror.

“No, but I’m sure you’ll tell us.”

John squeezed Sherlock's hand in reprimand.

“Sorry, do go on.”

The cabbie grinned. “You’re soulmates!”

“I don’t believe in soulmates or even souls for that matter.”

The cabbie shrugged. “Doesn’t matter. You don’t have to believe in something for it to be real or true. Let go of each other’s hands.”

Sherlock frowned, he didn’t want to. But John apparently wanted to test the man’s theory, he tried pulling his hand from Sherlock's. “Come on Sherlock, think of it like an experiment.”

Sherlock reluctantly let go and crosses his arms. Immediately his arm started itching and he felt uneasy. Looking over at John, the other man seemed unaffected but was scratching his shoulder, the wounded one.

“Ahh, see. That feeling you have, like something is missing or wrong, it will only get worse until you complete the circle.”

“I can prove your theory wrong, I’m feeling- odd, yes, but John is perfectly fine.”

The cabbie laughed long and hard. “So you're military?”

“Well, yes I suppose. I’ve justly been released from the military. I was an army doctor.”

“Ahh, so would you say you are used to staying cool under pressure? Hiding when you are uncomfortable?”

John turned and gave Sherlock a lopsided grin, “Yes, I would say that is correct. Sherlock, I do feel those things, same as you.”

“Rubbish, the power of suggestion.”

 

The cab pulled up in front of Angelo’s, the cabbie put the cab in park and turned around in his seat looking at the duo. “Okay, fine. That itch, it means something too. When you look at your skin you’ll see a mark forming, on the both of you; they’ll match. That mark also proves you’re soulmates.” The cabbie pulled back his own sleeve and a pretty swirl design encircled his wrist. “The best part about these marks is they show that you are complete. They show up in a location that changed your life or affects your life deeply. Take mine, for instance, I tried to commit suicide, needless to say, it didn’t work. When I found my wife this formed over the scar. John, what happened to your shoulder?”

“I got shot in Afghanistan. It’s part of the reason I’ve been invalided from service.”

“And Sherlock, guessing by the spot you’re scratching I’m guessing drug habit?”

Sherlock sat up straighter, he didn’t need this stranger telling his business to John. “Not anymore.”

“Ahh, but you struggle with it. Just like John’s wound is a struggle, civilian life isn’t the same as the army. All right let me see them.”

“See them?”

“Yes, your marks.”

Sherlock took out several bills and stuffed them in the man’s hand, he’d probably just overpaid the cab driver, but he didn’t want to listen to any more of his rubbish, he might start to believe it. “Good night sir.” Sherlock exited the cab and waited for John to follow. When he didn’t immediately follow he stuck his head back inside to see the cabbie was whispering to John. “John!”

“Coming.” John hurried out of the car.

“What did he say?”

“Oh, nothing.”

Sherlock glared at John.

“Just how to complete the circle with you if we so wished.”

 

Sherlock turned on his heels and stalked into the restaurant like he owned it. John stepped in stopping beside him. A tall older gentleman approached them smiling broadly.

“Sherlock, so good to see you. Your usual table yes?” The man led the way to a table and Sherlock placed his hand on the small of John’s back. John didn’t comment on it but it seemed odd even as it felt good.

“Sit, sit. I will bring out a bottle of my best wine for you and your date, and a candle, more romantic.”

“Oh sorry, it’s not a date,” John stated.

“It’s a date.” Sherlock corrected averting his eyes.

“I thought you don’t tolerate people long enough to have lovers?” John challenged once the man had hurried away.

“Yes, that was true before, but now it seems the opposite is true. With you I have no time to solve my cases, you occupy my every waking moment. And since I have been with you today, in the back of my mind I have been solving Lestrade’s case. I may have been wrong in my thinking that a partner would distract me from my work.”

“Fine. But what are we doing right now?”

Sherlock looked around nervous and confused, “We’re on a date.”

“You know, normally you ask the other person if they would like to go out on a date with you. Not just trick them into it.”

“I did not trick you into it. We needed to get away from Lestrade and Mike and I was hungry. I haven’t eaten in days but suddenly my appetite has come back. It hadn’t even occurred to me to ask you, and I didn’t even think this could be a date until Angelo mentioned it.”

John just looked at Sherlock amazed someone at his age had no clue how to date or really interact with people he liked.

Angelo came back with the wine and poured them both a glass. He stood there waiting for them to taste it. John tasted his wine, “It’s quite good, thank you.”

Sherlock stared at John, “I’m sure it’s fine, thank you, Angelo.” Once Angelo walked off Sherlock spoke up again, “John would you care to have dinner with me?”

John smiled, “I would love to.”

Smiling back Sherlock asked, “Would you like to see the menu?”

“I’ll just have what you’re having.”

 

They sat quietly sipping their wine.

“You said in the cab that you were feeling the things that I had been, was that true or were you just humouring the cabbie? Or poking fun at me?”

“What? No of course not. I would never make light of someone's feelings. I have been half out my mind thinking about you, trying to figure out if I should show up at your flat or just try and get over you.”

Angelo walked up just then with breadsticks and salad. “Oh how exciting, soulmates! When are you going to complete the circle?”

John stifled his laugh, the look on Sherlock's face was like he thought the whole world was having a joke and he was the punchline. But Angelo was serious, standing there with one fist on his hip waiting for an answer. “Sherlock doesn’t believe in soulmates or even souls.”

“What? Rubbish. I mean sure it isn’t a widely known phenomenon-”

“Yet magically I run into two men who know all about it,” Sherlock mumbled.

“...all the universe conspires in helping you to achieve it.” Angelo quoted.

“You misquote Paulo Coelho, the correct quote is, ‘And, when you want something, all the universe conspires in helping you to achieve it.’”

“Either way you get what I am saying. Belief is not necessary. Just like religion.”

“Which I’m sure Sherlock doesn’t do either.”

“Not exactly, no.”

“When your marks form he’ll believe. Don’t give up on him lad, I’ll be back with your main course shortly. Eat up.”

 

Sherlock dove into his salad, he really did eat like a man who hadn’t eaten in days but with a bit more manners. John grabbed a breadstick and watched Sherlock eat. When their salads were done Angelo magically appeared at their table with a busboy, the busboy took their dirty plates while Angelo laid down a heaping plate of spaghetti. “This looks great Angelo, thank you.”

Angelo continued to stand there. Sherlock picked up his fork and spoon and proceeded to take a bite of the food. John just shovelled a forkful into his mouth. “Ohh, this is so good.” He moaned around the food.

Sherlock stopped chewing and looked at John, he had no clue how he sounded, but Sherlock did, John sounded just like that in bed. Sherlock sat down his utensils and watched John eat, as did Angelo.

John had eaten half his food when he realized both Angelo and Sherlock was watching him. “Um, hello,” John said wiping his mouth. “Is everything okay?”

Angelo clapped his hands smiling, “You eat with much gusto! Does my heart good.” Angelo hurried off back to the kitchen.

“And you? Why are you staring?”

Sherlock leaned closer and whispered, “You are very sexy when you eat, your moan of appreciation sounds the same as when we were...intimate.”

“Sorry about that.”

“No don’t be sorry.”

 

Sherlock’s voice had gone all deep dark chocolate on him, making his throat dry. He was sexier than any man had the right to be. John put his fork down and looked Sherlock in the eyes. “What game are you playing? If you wanna have another go at it just say so, I would gladly shag you again and again until you grew tired of me. But do not try and play games with me Sherlock Holmes.”

“I’m not. Promise. I am mesmerized by you, John. But, I don’t want it to be about just sex. I don’t exactly know what I’m doing here.”

“Big surprise that.”

“I’m sorry John. Tell me what to do.”

“Eat.”

Sherlock settled back and started to eat, he’d lost the enthusiasm from before, eating slowly and methodically.

 

John felt bad for having snapped at Sherlock, “I’m sorry I snapped at you. It’s just, I put myself out there involving Mike and D.I. Lestrade and it seemed as if you weren’t taking me seriously. I like you, Sherlock, far more than our one night together would merit, and I don’t know why that is. I barely know you, but at the same time, I feel like I’ve always known you. And to hear you say that you don’t do relationships was like a stab to the heart because frankly everything you’ve said to the contrary is overshadowed by that one statement.”

“But that’s just it John, I don’t normally do relationship of any kind, but I want, no need to try it with you.”

“I can't help but worry that part way through trying, you’ll just give up and go back to ‘not doing relationships’.”

“I don’t think you understand John, and I’m not blaming you for that, in fact, I'm used to people not being able to keep up, but my point is I am not used to having strong emotions towards other people. I am a man who is ruled by my head not my heart, yet with you, my heart is screaming at me to not let you go again.”

 

John didn’t know what to say, Sherlock’s words were what he wanted to hear, that he cared for him on some level and he wanted to try and work out some semblance of a relationship. But John didn’t want to jump in heart first just to be hurt down the line because Sherlock's people skills are rusty.

Sherlock could see the wheels moving in John’s head, he was skeptical of his ability to carry on or his desire to carry on a relationship, and normally Sherlock would applaud him for being sharp and seeing right through his ruse, but for the first time in his life Sherlock was not playing some kind of game, trying to get involved with another person simply for a case or sex. He felt for John. This was only his third time seeing the man and he wanted to fall on his knees and ask him to move in with him, to marry him, to never leave him. This wasn’t typical for Sherlock and it scared him, but the thought of John walking out of this restaurant and he never seeing him again scared him more. His arm was itching again. And apparently, John’s shoulder was too.

 

“John, what do you say, we get out of here and go back to my place. It’s right around the corner.”

John stood, pulling his wallet from his back pocket.

Sherlock smiled.

“No, I don’t believe that is a good idea.”

Sherlock’s smile dropped. No? Was John telling him no and preparing to leave?

 

Angelo showed up at the table, he looked mildly distressed, “No, no. You don’t pay here. Any friend of Sherlock’s is a friend of mine, and you do not pay.”

John looked right at Sherlock and dropped money on the table anyways. “Thank you, Angelo, dinner was lovely. Good night Sherlock.”

“What happened?” Angelo asked Sherlock as John walked hurriedly from the restaurant.

“I don’t know exactly. Thank you for dinner Angelo, I have to run, gotta go catch the love of my life.” Sherlock ran out and onto the street just in time to see John get into a cab. “Dammit.” There was no way he’d be able to catch the cab. A slick black car pulled up next to Sherlock, the door opened and from within he heard, “Get in Sherlock, we can catch them.”

 

Sherlock was confused as to why his brother would care let alone help him but he jumped in the car all the same. Of course, Anthea was in the car as well, typing away on her phone, one day he would ask what she was doing all the time.

“Really Sherlock, I thought you claimed to be the smart one?”

Frowning Sherlock replied, “I am the smart one.”

“Your actions as of late say differently. You let your soulmate go not once but twice! You are tempting fate brother mine. John Watson is a soldier, he is used to living with pain and regret, I have no doubt he will get through this but you, you will start feeling worse than you do when you need a fix. I fear if you don’t fix this you will be lost to us, and as the smart one, what a pity that would be.”

“Not you too! Soulmates don’t exist, that’s a bunch of rubbish!”

“Anthea,” Mycroft said simply, not even bothering to argue further.

Sherlock looked at Anthea expectantly. Without tearing her eyes away from the phone screen and one hand still typing furiously, Anthea untucked and pulled her dress shirt up showing a pretty tattooed design right under her right breast. And to Sherlock’s trained eyes he didn’t miss the scar the design covered and half hid. Sherlock turned to his brother, “What are you trying to say?” Mycroft was already loosening his tie and unbuttoning his shirt. When he pulled the shirt to the side Sherlock could see the same pretty tattooed design over his heart.

“Charming, what are you saying?”

“I'm the dumb one but I had the intelligence to not let my soulmate slip away.”

“You and Anthea?”

“Yes.”

Sherlock looked perplexed looking at his brother and Anthea.

“I suffered from the illusion that one did not need love to survive. Meeting Anthea cured me. She had been stabbed after being taken hostage. I quite literally saved her life the night we met, and she mines in return.”

“Does mummy know?”

“She suspects. You know mummy is the smart one.”

Sherlock sat back in his seat, thinking it all over, trying to digest what his brother had just told him. It was easy to write the cabbie off as a quack, but his brother was the most level headed person he knew. He didn’t give in to flights of fancy.

  
  


When the car stopped behind John’s cab Mycroft spoke up again, “Let me see Sherlock.” Sighing Sherlock unbuttoned his cuff and pulled his sleeves up. Right in the crook of his arm, there was a faint design, it looked like it was just laying under the skin. Seeing it shocked Sherlock. Even though he had never known his brother to joke he had still held out hope that his brother was putting him on. Without another word, Sherlock jumped from the car chasing after John as he walked down a narrow alleyway. “John! John!”

John’s heart leaped at the sound of Sherlock’s voice, he had come after him.

When Sherlock had caught up with him he gave a tentative smile, “I forgot to ask you, how did the cabbie say we complete the circle?”

John gave a lopsided smile that quickly dropped. “You aren't serious are you?”

Sherlock shoved up his sleeves so John could see the design. Once he knew John had seen it he started pulling at the other man's jacket, impatiently pulling at the shirt buttons beneath.

“Whoa, whoa Sherlock, what the hell are you doing!?”

“Looking for your mark.”

John gave a nervous laugh and brushed Sherlock aside. “So you believe all that rubbish now?”

“Yes. I’m not sure that it is rubbish. But since I know you and I did not go out and get matching tattoos if you have the same design then it must be true.”

“And what of completing the circle and making us soulmates officially?”

Sherlock shrugged and frowned, “What of it?”

“The cabbie said we had to make love publicly.”

“Oh. Well, I guess this is as good a place as any.” Sherlock started undoing his belt buckle. 

John laughed and grabbed Sherlock’s hand stopping him from disrobing. “I was joking you git. Would you have really gone through with it? Had sex out here for the whole world to see?”

Sherlock was painfully aware of John’s hands still being on his hands at his waist. “In a heartbeat. If it means I get to keep you forever it’s a small price to pay.”

John released Sherlock's hands and finished what Sherlock had started, he unbuttoned more of the buttons and pulled his shirt and jacket to the side giving Sherlock an unobstructed view of his shoulder. Sherlock gasped. “What!? What is it, Sherlock?”

“Can we go up to your flat? I want to get a better look at these in the light.”

“Uh, sure.” John let his clothes fall back in place and lead the way inside the building and up two flights of stairs to his one-room flat. “It’s not much to look at, but it’s home. Come in.” John held the door open while Sherlock walked in.

 

Sherlock took in the small space within a matter of seconds. Crossing over to the wall switch he flipped on the lights. The small desk light that had been on was sufficient but he didn’t want to miss any details about John and his marks.

 

John took off his jacket and shirt completely sitting down on the bed. Sherlock followed suit and stripped out his coat, and button up. He supposed he didn’t need to take off the whole shirt but he liked when John looked at him and licked his lips, like he couldn’t wait to get his hands on him. Sherlock stood in front of John, staring into his eyes before turning his attention to the mark. It was beautifully simplistic in design it was a tribal circle of sorts, the lines that made up the circle went in two different directions, it looked a lot like a yin-yang symbol. And it mirrored the one on his inner arm only John’s was bigger and covered more surface. Reverently Sherlock touched the mark, softly tracing the design with his fingertips.

John sighed, the mark had been burning and itching simultaneously, Sherlock’s touch soothed it. Maybe Sherlock’s was doing the same. John reached out and placed his hand on the mark, Sherlock sighed, seconds later John felt a jolt go through his body. Removing his hand he looked at Sherlock’s mark. It looked red, more pronounced against his pale skin. Leaning forward he placed a kiss to the mark, letting his lips linger, thinking to himself he wanted to try, really try to make it work with Sherlock, for he had already crawled inside his heart and John would kill anyone who tried to harm him.

As John’s lips made contact with Sherlock’s skin, he felt compelled to do the same. He too leaned forward, placing small kiss after small kiss against John’s mark. Sherlock wasn’t normally a feeling, emotional man, but John made him feel overflowing with emotions. The words slipped from his mouth, he hadn’t even realized he had said anything until John went deathly still.

“What was that Sherlock? Did you just-” John braced himself to repeat what Sherlock had said, “Did you just tell me you love me?”

Sherlock stood up straight and looked down at John. He was sure he was red with embarrassment but he was bigger than that. Nodding once he said, “Yes. Apparently, my mind knew it before I myself acknowledged it.”

 

John stood up nearly knocking Sherlock over in his excitement. He grabbed Sherlock by the neck and dragged him down to meet his lips in a desperate and emotionally charged kiss. His fingers tangled in the dark curls as he tried to bring them closer. Every inch of him wanted to be touching every inch of Sherlock.

 

Sherlock moaned into the kiss and pressed back against John, they shared the same desire in wanting to be closer. Sherlock balled his fist up in the fabric of John’s trousers.

The kiss lasted several minutes until they both had to pull apart to catch their breath, still, they held onto each other as if their lives depended on it.

 

“Christ, Sherlock. I don’t know how, but- Christ, I love you too.”

Both men gasped. Sherlock looked at John with a mixture of fear, love and something else. “Do you feel that?” Sherlock asked in a whisper.

John nodded, unable to speak just yet. Tears threatened to fall from his eyes, but one of them being moved to tears was probably enough. John reached up, wiping tears from Sherlock's face.

Sherlock pulled back slightly, looking at John’s hands. It would appear that he was crying. “I’m sorry John, I’m not normally so-”

“Emotional? Yeah, I usually have a tough time with any emotion other than anger. But I just feel so-”

“Complete.” Sherlock finished. John nodded. They held on to each other for several long moments, “John.”

“Mmm?”

“The cabbie, how did he really say we complete the circle?”

“He didn’t. He just said it was different for every couple but we would know what to do and when it was done we would also know.”

 

“I think it’s done,” Sherlock whispered.

John pulled out of Sherlock’s embrace. “Are you okay with this? I mean it did move rather fast, we met, we slept together, and fell in love. All in the span of a month and two meetings? That’s not normal, I don’t think.”

“Who cares. What’s normal anyway? I had never even believed in soulmates until this moment so who knows what other unfathomable mysteries lie in store for us.”


End file.
